


it's different .

by redstringraven (sirimiri)



Series: lovely mind . [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Pining, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29449395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirimiri/pseuds/redstringraven
Summary: Dolcetto turns, nearly missing the pot he’d been in the middle of filling with chopped greens. It takes less than a second to find her. Lacking in color as his world is, there’s something magnetic in her energy. He doesn’t need hair, eye, skin color to sort Rose out of the small Liore crowd. She’s simply there, a toddler propped on one hip and their mother standing across from her.The two are engaged in some sort of positive conversation.You could eavesdrop,a thought murmurs, and he hates to admit he finds the idea tempting. What had the woman said to warrant that reaction from Rose? Or maybe the tot had just done something charming. She loved those kids, to the point she may as well be a surrogate mother to each and every one that ever reached for her hand or tugged on her apron. There was never a second thought or a beat of hesitation; she knelt to their height, her tenderness and care unconditional. Even when he could see what she managed to hide from everyone else.
Relationships: Dolcetto | Dorochet/Rosé Thomas
Series: lovely mind . [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690540
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	it's different .

**Author's Note:**

> this was impulse-written for valentines day and is totally unedited so apologies for potential silliness.  
> i have no self control.

* * *

No matter how many times he hears it, the sound of her laugh draws his attention away from his work. You’d think he’d be used to it by now; the way it bubbles into a soft ring and fills the air, gentle and warm as birdsong. But you’d be wrong. And this moment is no different than the last dozen.

Dolcetto turns, nearly missing the pot he’d been in the middle of filling with chopped greens. It takes less than a second to find her. Lacking in color as his world is, there’s something magnetic in her energy. He doesn’t need hair, eye, skin color to sort Rose out of the small Liore crowd. She’s simply there, a toddler propped on one hip and their mother standing across from her.

The two are engaged in some sort of positive conversation. _You could eavesdrop_ , a thought murmurs, and he hates to admit he finds the idea tempting. What had the woman said to warrant that reaction from Rose? Or maybe the tot had just done something charming. She loved those kids, to the point she may as well be a surrogate mother to each and every one that ever reached for her hand or tugged on her apron. There was never a second thought or a beat of hesitation; she knelt to their height, her tenderness and care unconditional. Even when he could see what she managed to hide from everyone else.

There’d be pain in her eyes. Discrete. Glimmers of something unspoken or lost. Something you could only see if you knew how pain surged through your bones and nails when something you valued was torn from you. Torn in the way that undoes your life. Your body and soul. And your reflection no longer belongs to you.

She hid it masterfully, with an elegance he’d never witnessed before. Not once had it ever hindered her generosity.

Now, there she stood. Expression beaming, eyes bright with life and laughing. Far away from whatever had wedged that pain between her ribs. To call her beautiful would be a disservice… but he didn’t have the vocabulary to describe her otherwise.

“You gonna finish that?”

Dolcetto jumps, nearly snarling as he whirls to face the voice’s origin. Greed sits at the soup kitchen’s counter, arms braced on its surface and chin propped on one set of knuckles. His ever present shit-eating-grin is a little wider than usual. Funny, how even on a new face it managed to be just as obnoxious as it’d always been.

Dol growls--just loud enough to make a point--and turns to slam the cutting board back on the counter.

“Fuck’s sake, boss. If you’re gonna sneak up on me like that, just stab me next time.”

“You’re usually hard as hell to sneak up on,” Greed says. He taps his chin with his pointer finger, grin slanting. “I wasn’t even trying. ...something distracting you?”

“Nope.”

“Uh huh. ...what about some _one_?”

Dol sighs loudly, dropping his hands and all but glaring at the man. “Someone sure is _now_.”

He’d been hoping to instill a little irritation in Greed, but rather than the desired effect, there’s a glint of amusement in the man’s eyes. And, maybe worse, a glint of recognition and knowing. “Uh huh.”

Dol’s shoulders rose. Maybe if he ignored it hard enough, the heat spreading across his face wouldn’t be noticeable. But when has life given him such grace? He swallows, snatching a knife off the counter and tossing it to the other man. “Make yourself useful and dice some goddamn chunks of beef, would ya?”

“On it,” Greed mutters. His hand snaps up and snatches the knife out of the air with an ease he shouldn’t have anymore. No more philosopher’s stone; no more ultimate shield to prevent him from losing a finger or three. But, you know… ‘old habits’ and all.

Greed collects a few cuts of beef from the back fridge and joins him behind the counter. Dol remains quiet and grabs for the next round of vegetables. He waits until he’s certain Greed’s busy before he takes another glimpse of the crowd from the corner of his eyes.

Rose had moved to a group of children--some the same age as the tot still sat on her hip and others on the verge of their teens. One of them is showing her something. A valued plush, maybe. Or extending a gift. He’d sought her out just in time because she’s begun to laugh again. Somehow even freer than before. And she sets the toddler on the ground, watching after the band of kids as they scatter back to their individual guardians. Her expression is everything he imagines peace to be.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did.”

For the second time, Greed’s voice jerks him back to reality. Dol inhales, turning--expecting to find Greed’s grin once again aimed at him. But the man’s head is bowed, his eyes focused on slicing even cubes of meat. The grin’s gone. ...something… gentler taking its place. Dolcetto blinks.

“... what?”

“You heard me.”

Greed scoops the cubes into his hands, dropping them into the pot. He turns his head to Dol, and his brows raise almost expectantly. Dol stares at him. Then he snorts, tearing his eyes away--ducking his head--shaking it. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah--you’re a walking pasture, there’s so much bullshit.”

“Maybe. But you’re the stubborn-ass bull filling it.”

“ _Would_. **YOU** \--” Dol slams the end of his knife into the cutting board, turning to face Greed in full. Greed’s expression remains passive, and he folds his arms to lean his side into the counter as Dol jabs a finger at him. “--Mind your own goddamn business?? For ONCE.”

Greed blinks, then he turns his head to look out at the still lingering crowd. Dol’s quick to follow his gaze, and his heart just about drops like a brick into his stomach. A handful of folks have stopped to look in their direction… Rose being one of them. Dol inhales, and his mouth goes dry as a new wave of heat fills his face and ears. Greed simply raises and waves a hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” He says loudly. “Should have known no one likes a backseat chef!”

The crowd seems to sigh collectively, and one by one they return to closing down their areas of construction for the evening. Rose’s eyes linger a second or so longer, but she smiles. With a small nod, she returns to helping a group of women move buckets of building materials to the side of the road.

Dolcetto exhales through his nose, flexing his hands at his sides. Slowly, he turns his attention back to Greed. The man pockets his hands, chin tilted up. That gentleness is back in his eyes again, and Dolcetto can’t decide if it’s comforting or damn near annoying.

“You know how I feel about liars,” Greed says. “So how about you stop lying to yourself. Huh?”

Dol swallows the lump forming in his throat. But he doesn’t speak. Greed waits a moment longer before he sighs and shrugs, turning on his heel and making for the soup kitchen’s back door. He throws a hand up, waving over his shoulder. “See ya.”

It’s almost a full minute before Dol reaches out and yanks the knife free from its cutting board burrow. He turns it, just enough to see his eyes reflect back at him in the steel. And after another long moment, he returns to chopping vegetables.

_It’s different_ , he tells himself, fixing his jaw. _It’s different_.

But there’s a stirring in his chest. The dogs are anxious--bordering excited. He can feel the urge to move, run, the desire--no, the need--to let it consume him as it builds and vibrates. He can see his hands shaking even as they continue to prepare the greens. The energy spreading fast through his body is almost unbearable.

_It’s different_.

Until, finally, he can’t stand still anymore. He throws the knife aside, turning to start closing down the soup kitchen as quickly as he can. In hopes of getting out before she can bid him good night.

_It’s bullshit_.


End file.
